Liston's Advice
by gryphonshadow
Summary: When Marco suggest some rather extreme measures to get them out of a sticky situation, Ace is horrified and in the process discovers the darker side of the first commander's devil fruit powers. Marco doesn't understand what all the fuss is about. Graphic violence, mentions of self-harm.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Liston's Advice

Rating: M

Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort,

Characters: Ace, Marco, Whitebeard Pirates

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of self-harm, kinda whumpy

Summary: When Marco suggest some rather extreme measures to get them out of a sticky situation, Ace is horrified and in the process discovers the darker side of the first commander's devil fruit powers. Marco doesn't understand what all the fuss is about.

A/N: I got the idea for this story after rewatching the Marineford Arc. God, if I was in the One Piece universe, I would love to have Marco's abilities! Or at least get to see them (or him) first hand… This is a darker take on the uses of the Phoenix no mi (or whatever the hell the fruit is called) and I warn you, I didn't hold back. Sorry Marco! I love you!

Please review! I would really appreciate feedback, good or bad.

**Chapter 1**

"Well, this sucks."

"Hm," Marco quietly agreed. This did suck. Nowadays it wasn't often that Whitebeard pirates found themselves in a cell at a heavily-guarded marine outpost, but there they were. The two were currently sitting in a dingy barred jail cell in the basement of the small building. The air felt dank and the concrete floor cold and uncomfortable. The entire chamber had an empty sort of aura around it, as if it hasn't been used in a long time. Either the marines here weren't very good at capturing pirates, or they never had a need to keep them alive. Suffice to say it wasn't the ideal way to end a simply scouting mission.

And it was all Ace's fault.

"Maybe if you didn't pass out in your food in a bar filled with marines, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Hey! Ho w was I supposed to know the bartended was being paid off?" Ace objected. "But, you gotta admit, keeping seastone cuffs behind the bar was a smart idea. It's pretty easy to catch a drunk pirate off-guard like that!"

"Or a narcoleptic one," the first division commander scowled.

"I can't help that, asshole!" If his feet weren't fettered together, Fire Fist Ace would have kicked his superior upside the head. At least, he would have tried.

The older pirate looked unamused. There was no point in arguing. After all, he was stuck in the same cell with his careless nakama. He didn't get any extra points, either. He just couldn't believe that they would be stupid enough to put them in the same cell. Though, there was only one, taking up half of the small 12 by 12 foot room_. 'Must be the budget cuts_,' he noted. _'Their loss.'_

Sensing a presence approaching, the pirates looked up and through the steel bars at the entrance to the basement. They heard the sound of several footsteps descending down the stairs as three figures entered the small chamber. The room was illuminated by two oil lamps hanging just outside the cell bars which cast shadows across the walls as the figures moved through the space.

"How do you like your accommodations?" An unfamiliar voice inquired. "Hmm, Marco the Phoenix and Fire First Ace?"

The two in question looked up at the man addressing them, Ace in annoyance and the blond in disdain. The newcomer was a rather tall and muscled man with slicked-back dark hair and a well-groomed moustache. His mouth was set in a scowl as he glared at his prisoners in disgust. He wore the signature coat with the justice insignia adorning the back. He was flanked by two armed officers. Although his stature and countenance would have intimidated lesser pirates (and likely his marine charges), the commanders were unimpressed, instantly coming to the same conclusion.

So, a generic pompous Marine captain looking to curry favor with the higher ups, come to gloat. Typical.

"It's not every day that I managed to snare _two_ commanders of the legendary Whitebeard pirates. 'Must be my lucky day!"

Marco didn't think he's heard a more cliché sentence coming from a marine's mouth _in his life_, and that's saying something. He heard Ace chuckle to his right.

"You'll be eating those words soon enough, Captain... uh…"

"That's Captain Jirou to you."

"Whatever. Never heard of you."

Marco rested his head against the cool stone bricks at his back and stayed silent, choosing instead to be stoic and indifferent thus drawing less attention to himself. It seemed like his younger brother didn't learn that lesson yet— mouthing off to your captors is not worth the few minutes of fun nor the illusion of dignity it makes you feel. It just makes them angry. In the meantime, he studied the captain's mannerisms and his body language, looking for weaknesses for future reference.

"Anyways, I don't think you know what you've gotten yourself into, if you think this pathetic little outpost can hold us."

"We'll see about that," the large man scoffed. "I've caught more pirates in these parts than any other commander in the New World."

"Liar."

"Hey! How the hell would you know?! That's the truth! Right, Frank?" He turned to the officer to his left and the younger man nodded without enthusiasm.

So he was a terrible liar and spoke in clichés. Fun. How the hell did they get captured by this dumbass again?

"Anyways, I'm here to tell you damned pirates that I informed headquarters about your capture and they are sending an admiral out to pick you up."

"How considerate of you."

"They'll make quick work of you. I'm sure you will be transferred straight to Impel Down where you'll rot in hell for the rest of your lives!" He laughed. It was an irritating and strangely high pitched noise Ace never wanted to hear again. "Do get comfortable. You'll be spending a long time in cells like this."

With that, the captain turned around and left the pirates alone once again.

"Do you think it was a bluff?" Ace turned to his nakama after they heard the door slam at the top of the staircase.

"Not likely," Marco shook his head in the negative. "You saw what a terrible liar he is. Plus, we've been tracking the admirals' whereabouts and there have been reports of Admiral Kizaru patrolling this region of the New World. Its bad luck and bad timing, but he may very well decide to pay us a visit. It's just a matter of time."

Frowning, Ace tucked his legs to his chest and wrested his crossed arms on his knees. A simply scouting expedition, and they might have to go up against an admiral. The kid figured he could take him— especially with the first commander (as backup of course), but they might not get a fighting chance if they stay in the cell. The Whitebeard commanders were shackled with seastone handcuffs and both felt their draining qualities sapping the energy from their bodies and leaving them powerless. There were a few things Fire Fist Ace despised in this world, and one of them was seastone.

"Then we gotta get out of here."

"'Course we do. We're going to miss our check-in time with Pops."

"Got any ideas?" Ace smirked at the mention of their previous mission. Even after getting caught by the marines, Marco _would_ still be focused on their last assignment.

"One," the phoenix calmly replied and fixed him with an unreadable expression, as if evaluating the younger pirate or deliberating something in his head. The black-haired teen felt a bit uneasy under his searching gaze. "The cuffs on your feet— are they also seastone?"

"No," Ace replied. He could feel the cursed material shackling his hands and draining his strength, but his feet were secured by simple steel chains.

"Good. Neither are mine. Luckily for us, this base is ill-equipped to deal with devil fruit users. The bars on the cell aren't seastone either."

"So?"

"So as long as one of us manages to get free of the handcuffs, we can bust out of here easily."

"What, do you have a key or something?" Ace asked sarcastically. Marco was still staring at him with that weird look on his face. He was definitely plotting something.

"I don't need one," the older pirate stated cryptically and pulled a small knife from the folds of fabric wrapped around his waist. "I have a favor to ask you."

"What?! You can't just ask for favors in such a mysterious way like that!" The teenager protested.

"Here, take it," The first commander ignored him and clutched the knife awkwardly in one hand. His wrists were cuffed behind his back (as opposed to Ace's which were in front due to his being caught off guard at the bar), severely limiting his movements and forcing him to contort his body rather creatively while trying to hand over the weapon.

"What am I gonna do with _this_?" Ace took the offered knife and examined it. It had a bone handle and was encased in a flimsy leather sheath that he casually discarded. The blade curved upwards at the tip, resembling a miniature scimitar. It was no more than four and a half inches long but both edges were _sharp_. "Pick the lock?"

"You could try, but I doubt you'd get very far." The phoenix was right. Even if Ace knew how to pick locks (which he didn't; that was Thatch's specialty), the knife was too broad to do much good. "You're going to do me a favor. My hands are tied behind my back so I can't do it, but you can."

"You're being all cryptic again. What's the _plan_?"

Marco the Phoenix fixed him with that dark look once again, not breaking eye-contact. His drooping eyes bore into him (_Stop looking at me like that, damn it!_) and this time Ace was certain: he was searching for something.

"You're going to cut off my hands."

A/N: I warned you it was going to get dark. Please don't forget to review! I gladly accept anonymous reviews!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So I changed the title of this fic to 'Liston's Advice' and I thought I should explain it a bit since it is very, very obscure. Dr. Robert Liston was a Scottish doctor and a famous pioneer in surgical practices in the first half of the 19th century. He was known for the speed of his operations, especially amputations.

Also, I thought this was amusing- he managed to accidentally kill three people during a single operation. The patient died later from gangrene. His assistant also died from gangrene 'cause Liston accidentally chopped his fingers off because he got carried away. One of his spectators dropped from fright when the doctor missed him with a scalpel by inches. Crazy. Look him up, his bio is fascinating!

I apologize for the length of this chapter. I went a bit overboard. Don't forget to review!

**Warnings: This chapter contains an extremely graphic description of amputation. Read at your own discretion. (Also contains mentions of self-harm.) It is rated M.**

**I have added an extra warning in the middle of the text- stop reading at that point if you cannot tolerate detailed descriptions of gore and violence.**

* * *

_Previously…_

"_You're being all cryptic again. What's the plan?" _

_Marco the Phoenix fixed him with that dark look once again, not breaking eye-contact. His drooping eyes bore into him (Stop looking at me like that, damn it!) and this time Ace was certain: he was searching for something. _

"_You're going to cut off my hands."_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"What?!"

"I told you: I can't do it myself because I won't be able to finish once I cut one of them off." Marco explained steadily, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Fire Fist exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Are you craz—" He cut off mid-sentence as a thought dawned on him. "Oh I see! You're _joking_."

The first commander stared, deadpan.

"Hahahahahahaha! You almost got me there!" Ace laughed, still clutching the knife. "Good one! Poor taste, though. I never knew you had such a morbid sense of humor."

"Ace…" If he wasn't restrained, the pirate would have face-palmed.

"But seriously," Ace chuckled. "What's the plan?"

"Brat! I'm not joking. That _is_ the plan," Marco scolded him sternly in annoyance. "Now stop goofing off and let me explain."

"What?" The younger man repeated incredulously.

"My devil fruit powers allow me to regenerate lost limbs. Once I get the cuffs off, I'll heal instantly and bust us out of here."

"No. No, you can't be serious. That is the stupidest plan I have ever heard. Cut of your hands? Are you _insane?!_" The second commander hissed, looking absolutely stricken. "You can't really expect me to—"

"I will regenerate so it doesn't matter." The Phoenix stated matter-of-a-fact.

"That's not the point! I don't want to—"

"You don't want to hurt me? Is that it?" the first division commander raised an eyebrow. "How many times have I kicked your ass? Have you ever once managed to hurt me?"

"That's different." Ace looked down, frowning. The blade felt heavy in his hands.

"Look; if you have a better plan to get us out of here, by all means, tell me."

"I—" the dark-haired teen wracked his brain trying to think of anything to get them out of this situation. Anything was better than mutilating his brother in arms. The thought of it terrified him. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't think of an alternative. There were no reinforcements coming. The two were alone on this island and they weren't due to check in with the crew for another couple of hours. Chances were that no one was aware of their capture. The pause seemed like it would stretch on indefinitely and Marco sighed.

"I figured as much. Now don't look at me like I don't know what I'm doing. What do you think the knife is for? I sure as hell don't need it for battle."

"You've done this before?!" Ace almost dropped the knife at the implications. The curved blade suddenly seemed cruel and sinister. He gaped at the commander in horror and the other stared blankly back, half of his face cast in shadows. The dark-haired teen let the notion sink in. The blond had a knife that he kept on him at all times, a knife that he only used _on_ _himself_. He felt a little sick. "How many times?"

"My regenerative powers come in very useful when it comes to escaping from Marines. Why do you think I've never been seriously caught? You still have a lot to learn. If you have an advantage over your enemy, you take it." The older man explained softly, as if lecturing a small child. With how many times the two have fought battles back to back, it was often easy to forget how much more experience the first commander had under his belt.

He certainly didn't look ashamed at having just revealed such a terrifying little tidbit about himself, and somehow that was in itself unnerving. He simply looked bored like he always did. In fact, he looked like it was the most common fact of life you could think of; like cutting off your own hands was not out of the ordinary. Like it wasn't wrong or painful or disturbing. A gloom settled over the cell and suddenly the darkness felt oppressive.

"That's fucked up, man."

"Tch," Marco finally had the decency to look abashed. "Now, will you do it? Or will I have to order you to?"

This was serious. Marco never pulled rank on him unless it was in a dire situation. And as crazy as his plan seemed, Marco was right. The teen just had to trust that his brother wouldn't suggest such an extreme method if he didn't think there was a better solution.

"Fine, I'll do it. But if I accidentally kill you, Pops will murder me."

"What? Afraid you'll wuss out? I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you could handle it," The Phoenix smirked, sensing victory.

'_So that was what that look was for,' _Ace thought. '_He was trying to decide whether I could actually go through with it.'_

"I'm not the one getting his hands cut off!"

"Relax," Marco rolled his eyes. "I'll walk you through it."

The blond took to removing the light blue fabric draped around his waist. He awkwardly fumbled with the cloth before managing to untie and unwrap it. He offered it to Ace who accepted it, though slightly perplexed.

"We'll need it in a second," the Whitebeard commander explained and proceeded to instruct the younger pirate to tear the fabric into several strips. Restricted by the seastone cuffs, the task was slow going even with the knife but after a few minutes he had shredded the cloth into several uneven pieces. "We'll need some for tourniquets and some to stem the bleeding in the first hand while you work on the second."

Next, he instructed the second commander to tie a strip of the blue cloth around each of his arms right above the handcuffs.

"This will stem the bleeding. We don't have the proper tools to make a proper tourniquet, but this will have to do. Just make sure you tighten the knot as much as possible; the point is to constrict the blood vessels to prevent excess blood loss."

The first commander shifted his body so that his back was facing the other to give him better access to his hands. While he worked, Ace kept stealing glances at the man by his side. His nakama's calm demeanor worried him. As he tightened the fabric around the first wrist, the blond looked relatively relaxed and composed despite the morbidity of the situation. It was a chilling contrast to the younger pirate's nervous apprehension. Not to waste time, Marco began to instruct him on how to go about the rest of the procedure.

"The trick is speed. You have to be fast and precise in your cut. To do that, you will have to concentrate all of your strength into your movements. Don't hold back. The human body is remarkably resilient."

Ace nodded and tightened the tourniquet on the second arm. He leaned back once he finished.

"Good enough," Marco noted and continued with his explanation. He had Ace hold up his own hand since it was impossible to demonstrate with his own. "Do you see the boney nub on the outside of your wrist? You are going to aim right above it, perpendicular to the arm. Your cut should slice between the ulna and radius bones of the forearm and the carpels that make up the wrist. It may be tough to get the angle correctly, but this way you will not have to slice directly through bone with this flimsy knife."

"Okay. Between the bones. Got it," The phoenix's description seemed to make sense. Yet Ace didn't know whether he should be thankful for the commander's insight or disturbed that he was so knowledgeable on the subject. He really did sound like he's done this before…

"To make a clean cut, you will have to start by hooking the curved tip of the knife under the inside of the wrist. Then use the inside edge of the blade to cut through the muscle in a spiral motion upwards and toward yourself. Unfortunately, the wrist is full of tendons that control the movements of your fingers, so you will run into resistance. If you do it right, it will only take one slash."

Ace carefully listened to the instructions, committing them to memory.

"Remember: the most important part," The first commander's tone suddenly shifted from dispassionate to gravely serious and the other listened attentively, "is _speed_. Whatever happens, don't falter. _Commit_. The crucial moment will be after you cut the first hand. You need to finish with the second as soon as possible. Cover the wound with the cloth to stop some of the bleeding but do not delay. Keep going. The sooner you finish with the second hand, the sooner I will be able to regenerate. Before that happens, I will be in danger of bleeding to death. Do you understand?"

The younger pirate nodded. His instructions were easy enough to remember. It didn't seem that difficult, especially hearing the process described so clinically. Ace felt like all he needed to do was follow step by step.

"I may not be coherent enough to help you once you cut through the first hand, so I'll make this abundantly clear now. Whatever you do, don't falter. Follow through to the end," Marco repeated. "Got it?"

"Yes, I get it," the teen said, not a little impatiently. "Be fast. Don't hesitate. _I got it_."

"Good. Let's do this." Marco regarded him carefully for another second before lowering himself until he was laying on his side with his back to his nakama. He held his hands away from his body as far as it was comfortable and mentally prepared himself for the worse. He could explain the process to his brother as meticulously as humanly possible, and it wouldn't matter. The fact was that Fire Fist Ace has never done this before. Hell, even his attack style had nothing to do with bladed weapons. Suffice to say, the phoenix was not naïve enough to think that this was going to go off without a hitch. Still, he trusted Ace. He trusted him enough to put his life in his hands. They were going to bust out of here, together.

"Alright." The dark haired commander said confidently as his gaze shifted to the task before him. But as the blade grazed across the other's skin, the gravity of what he was about to do finally set it. His head snapped up.

"Shit. This is a bad idea."

'_He's nervous,'_ Marco sighed. _'He's afraid. If he doesn't commit to this, it won't go well.'_

"Don't worry," He said steadily, in the most reassuring voice he could muster. His eyes never waver and never broking contact from the teen's darker ones. "You are afraid because for you losing a hand is a life-altering injury that would cripple you. Because of my Mythical Zoan type devil fruit, for me losing a limb or two is no different from any other injury, like being cut or stabbed. I'm used to it now and it's not as bad as it looks. I've had worse. (_Being shot in the gut with a seastone bullet _was_ worse, much worse. He had sent that sniper to a special hell_). In any case, the pain is temporary and never leaves any lasting effects; any normal man would suffer far more than I would. I have nothing to fear, and neither should you."

Ace froze. The commander's resigned nonchalance sent shivers down his back. Marco was not boasting. Nor was he lying. He was telling the absolute truth. It was cold and logical and left little room for argument. '_Marco has done this before_,' a little voice in the back of his head rationalized._ 'He understands what he's getting himself in to. If anything, I am the one disrespecting the commander by not trusting his judgment.'_

"Everything will be fine as long as it's done quickly and without hesitation. But you are not one to half-ass something like this, so I'm not worried. Besides, you are strong. You won't have any trouble."

Manipulative bastard. The praise would have been better received if Ace didn't see completely through it. He growled in annoyance. It stood out as unusual since Marco didn't hand out compliments unless they were especially well-deserved. Usually it was 'Brat!' or 'Damn kid!' _'You're just saying that to make me feel more confident and not mess up, aren't you?'_ And yet, his words _were _comforting. Manipulation aside, there was something to them. The blond wouldn't ask this of Ace if he didn't believe that he could do it. All he had to do now was man up and follow through.

"I understand. Get ready," Fire Fist Ace whispered. He grasped the commander's hand and held it steady so that it lay palm-up on the stone floor. With his other hand he brought the tip of the blade under the wrist below the cuffs.

Suddenly Marco gave the teen's hand a reassuring squeeze before relaxing his hand. _'Don't be afraid. You can do this.' _His brother squeezed back.

**[Warning: From here to the end of the chapter is extremely graphic. Do not read if you cannot tolerate detailed descriptions of gore and violence.]**

The second commander adjusted his grip on the knife and swiftly brought the blade upwards. _'Spiral cut, between the bones.'_ The skin split instantly as the razor-sharp knife dug into the flesh of the man's wrist. So did the immediate veins and arteries. There was barely any muscles to go through and the large tendons joining the hand with the forearm were tough and rubbery, but severed easily due to the sharpness of the blade.

But just as Ace thought that he had managed to carry the cut all the way through, the slash ground to a halt as the knife met more resistance than the pirate anticipated. He had misjudged the angle of the bones. With the knife still embedded half-way through the first division commander's wrist, a deep wound opened up splattering thick red blood on the floor.

"Shit!"

"Gah!" Marco cried out once in pain. He pulled sharply away out of pure reflex and almost tore his half-severed hand out of his brother's grasp. The jolt tore the muscles around the blade and violently opened up the laceration more. The blond yelped again and bit hard on his lip to keep from crying out again. He had to stay quiet to not attract the attention of the guards upstairs.

'_Shit! Shitshitshitshitshit—' the_ teen swore frantically in his head, momentarily paralyzed.

The phoenix curled up, pressing his head against the cool surface of the floor, trying to ignore the agony in his hand. He could feel the open gash on his wrist leaking blood and his body shuddering from the sudden trauma. The tourniquet Ace applied did little to stem the bleeding. He had to grit his teeth to suppress the whine that threatened to tear from his mouth.

'_I fucked up! Fuck!' _Ace's eyes darted between his heavily-breathing nakama, the blood pooling across his hands, and the knife still buried between the bones.

"Ace…" Marco choked out through clenched teeth. '_Hurry up, Ace! Finish it!'_

The younger Whitebeard pirate's eyes widened and he tightened his grip on the pommel of the knife. He drove the blade into the groove between the bones with all of his might, splitting the ligaments. Once he got passed the bones, the tendons and the musculature gave way easily. The blade swung through the rest of the wrist, showering the teen with a splash of warm blood.

As soon as he felt his hand be completely severed from his body, Marco jerked his shoulder back, sliding the cuffs from his hands without resistance and freeing himself from the unpleasant aura of the seastone. With one arm removed from the handcuffs, the commander rolled over onto his stomach and swung his other arm from behind his back to the ground at his side. He lay there panting and shivering, willing his brother to hurry the fuck up before he bled to death.

Ace flinched back at the sight. Vaguely, he realized that he still held his nakama's severed hand in his own. It was limp and unmoving in his grasp. He shuddered and dropped it pathetically onto the floor. Blood. There was so much blood.

'_Shit!'_ Ace swore again and grabbed at what was left of the cloth from Marco's wrap. Running on autopilot, he inched closer to his prone comrade and started winding the fabric around his heavily bleeding arm. He felt dizzy. His mind was hazy and his eyes started to wander as he worked. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The blue fabric was quickly stained red.

'_This is wrong. Thisiswrongthisiswrongthisiswrongthisiswrong_...' The thought coursed through his head like a mantra. This was _all_ wrong. But it was passed the point of no return. _That_ was breached the first time the blade clumsily sliced through the skin and the resilient sinews of muscle and tendon underneath.

'_No, not the blade,' _Ace gaped at the scene in front of his eyes. _He_ had done this. _He_ held the commander's hand (_warm and strong and alive_) and then _he_ hacked it off like a butcher would to a pig (_no, worse than a butcher. A butcher would never do that to his own family_). He felt a part of his brother grow cold and die in his hands. And he was about to do it again. In a trance, the boy's gaze subconsciously wandered to the limp left hand that he discarded on the stone floor. The knife fell from his grasp as he lifted his arms to clutch his head in terror. The blood. Marco was losing so much blood and it was _all his fau—_

"What are you doing?!" A voice -a growl through gritted teeth- pierced through his foggy mind.

The teen's head snapped up to meet his commander's eyes- unblinking eyes full of fire and determination. His own eyes widened, mesmerized.

"Why are you hesitating?! Hurry!"

Ace's breath hitched in his throat. This was not just his fight. This was Marco's fight as well.

The older pirate was suffering far more than the younger was. Despite his bravado at the beginning, losing his hand _hurt_. The grimace on his face, the sweat on his brow and the flecks of blood on his lips (where he bit himself to keep from _screaming_) was evidence of that. And still he was fighting. Even through the pain and the blood and the horror, the Phoenix was pushing aside all his suffering to support him, to help him _carry on_.

The steadfast determination in those burning eyes shattered the boy's debilitating trance. Marco was determined to live and he trusted his nakama to help him do that. The first commander's iron will was the pillar of support he needed to keep going. Portgas D. Ace pushed his trepidation down as he pulled from his brother's overwhelming strength and grabbed the curving knife off the floor.

'_If I don't do this, Marco dies. Focus! Where the arm bones meet the carpals…'_

He gave his commander's second hand a reassuring squeeze before pressing the limb firmly to the ground, giving him better access to the site of the forthcoming incision. His hands were still shaking but his brother needed him to be strong and he sure as hell wasn't going to let him down. When he hooked the crook of the blade under his nakama's wrist right below the thick cuffs, his hands were as still as a surgeon's.

The raven-haired man was so focused on his task that he didn't notice the ghost of a smile grace the other's lips.

The cut is instantaneous. He pushed all thoughts of fear and anxiety out of his head and just _acted_, channeling all his strength and power into the force of the slash. The skin broke immediately, after which came the muscles and the arteries, torn apart by the pirate's spiral-motion strike. The bones broke apart last as Marco's right hand was severed from his body. The seastone cuff followed, falling with a clank to the hard stone floor.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm so, so, so sorry, Marco! I think I went a little overboard. I apologize for that. /Not!/

**Please, please, please, please, please, please leave a little review (I accept anon reviews gladly!) and tell me your thoughts on this chapter! Especially the scene at the end! I want to know your reactions! **

**Loved it? Hated it? Want to kill me? Think I should be locked up? Let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I am so sorry for updating so late! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Here is the final installment. I would say I've been busy with life-stuff, but I would be lying. For some reason, I just wasn't in the mood to work on this fic. I was still writing, but something different and a lot more intense and dark and non-con-y. I'm not going to put that one up; it's for my eyes only ;)

This chapter was super fun and super easy to write in the end though I had a hard time figuring out how to end it. I apologize for the length of this chapter. I didn't mean for it to get this long. I just kinda hit 4,500 words without realizing it. Anyways, with this story I wanted to juxtapose the character's worldviews, experiences, and personalities. It's fascinating how differently they react to a single event. Neither is in the right, but neither is completely wrong, either. Moreover, it is a chance for them to learn more about each other and grow. Let me know if I managed to convey this clearly!

Oh, almost forgot. I realized that I completely forgot Marco's characteristic verbal ticks. I put them in this chapter and I may go back and fix the rest when I'm not feeling lazy.

God, I love hurt/comfort! It makes me really happy! Though this is a damn twisted version of the genre… Let's play a game, shall we? Guess who's being comforted and who's doing the comforting! I choose both! :0

**Warnings: Language. And excessive angst. But we're done with all the gory bits. **

* * *

_Previously…_

_The cut is instantaneous. He pushed all thoughts of fear and anxiety out of his head and just acted, channeling all his strength and power into the force of the slash. The skin broke immediately, after which came the muscles and the arteries, torn apart by the pirate's spiral-motion strike. The bones broke apart last as Marco's right hand was severed from his body. The seastone cuff followed, falling with a clank to the hard stone floor._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Ace fell backwards, the knife flying out of his hands. _What has he done?_

Marco lay panting and shuddering on the ground. A pool of blood was quickly forming around him, staining his skin and his clothes a bright crimson. He made no move to get up and his hands weren't healing. The dark-haired commander looked for the tell-tale sight of blue fire but it wasn't there and Marco wasn't getting up and the cuffs were off but he. Wasn't. Healing.

The teen gasped. What was going on? Did they miscalculate? What if the floor was seastone? The walls? Did he cut off his own brother's arms for nothing? This wasn't supposed to be happening. He _promised_. But now Marco was bleeding out on the floor and all he could do was watch because he caused it. He was supposed to protect his family. He was supposed to keep them alive, keep them here with him, _alive_. Because Sabo was dead and none of his brothers were supposed to die, _not again_, and they didn't deserve that but he did and instead Marco was dying because of him. Because Ace caused it. Because Ace hurt him. He mutilated him. He _killed_ him.

Ace was shaking. He could feel the acrid taste of bile at the back of his throat and resisted the urge to throw up. A million thoughts raced through his head at lightning speed. All of them were dark and they tore at him from the inside. He wanted to scream. At the back of his mind, he knew that only a few seconds have gone by but it felt like hours.

And suddenly, a burst of blue fire sprang to life, illuminating the dark and miserable cell in a warm and brilliant cerulean. The teen's eyes widened as the fire grew, encompassing the cuts on both of the first mate's arms. The severed hands on the floor ignited as well. He watched, heart thumping in his chest, as they were slowly consumed by the flames only to rematerialize in their proper place on the commander's arms anew. Whole. Unscathed. The phoenix stirred and the younger pirate sighed deeply, not realizing he was holding his breath.

Once his hands fully formed, the commander pushed himself off the grimy floor and stood up. He brought his hands up and held his left wrist, testing out the mobility of the hand. He rotated his wrist, clenched his hand several times, and did the same with the other. Satisfied, he brought his hands up, palms out, for Ace to see.

"See? What did I tell you? Good as new," He said with a humorous smirk. "Good job."

"Marco…" His nakama didn't look amused. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. The teen grumbled something with a severe look on his face and all the commander could make out was the word 'pale.' The blond followed the younger's gaze which was focused on the ground and, consequently, the blood staining the concrete floor. He picked up on his brother's meaning and he smiled inwardly. The kid was worried about him. It would have been touching if it weren't completely unnecessary.

"You think I can regenerate a hand but not a little bit of blood?" Even then he could feel the familiar healing warmth of his phoenix flames burning through his veins and in his heart. "I'm fine. Thank you for going through with that. I know it wasn't easy. But stop worrying so much, yoi."

'_Thank you?'_ The black-haired pirate felt a little ill. _For what?_ He almost _killed_ the man. He cut off his _hands_. And he was _thanking_ him for it?

Ace stared at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Marco shrugged and with a swift kick shattered the iron restraints on his legs. He approached the younger pirate who was still collapsed on the floor and brought one sandaled foot down on the other's chains, breaking them apart easily. The cuffs on his hands would have to wait, however. Seastone was a fickle material; they would have to find the key for that one.

"Let's get the hell out of here, yoi."

With another kick, the door to the cell exploded outwards and the pair walked out and up the stairs, leaving the dark and bloodstained cell behind without looking back. They encountered the first two guards at the top and don't waste any time beating them to the ground. Marco grabbed one of the terrified officers by the front of his government-issued tunic and held him up in the air.

"Where is the key?" he asked simply and the man whimpered.

The other marine trembled under the heel of Ace's boot and uttered the marine captain's name, fear for his own life winning out over loyalty to his superior. The second commander scowled, Marco dropped the first officer, and the two hurried down the corridor of the base in search of Jirou. _They weren't going to make this easy for them, were they?_

The two guards at the entrance of their cell must have called for backup because as they turned around a corner, they were met by a battalion of armed officers with rifles trained on them. Before the marines could get any accurate shot in, however, Marco turned his arms into wings and tore through them with ease. Cursing his lack of powers, Ace followed slightly behind the first mate and took out the remaining men with well-aimed kicks. They fell into this pattern as they made their way through the base in what they assumed was the direction of the exit. The base was underground and as far as the Whitebeard Pirates remembered, there was only one way out: through the central lobby (a large circular chamber with corridors leading off of it to the different segments of the facility) and up the main staircase. It was in this main room that the two commanders ended up when the twisting hallway they were following suddenly ended.

"Hmm," Marco narrowed his eyes as they skidded to a halt and looked around them. The entrance at the top of the stairs was sealed shut with blast doors and the pirates were surrounded on all sides by a hundred or so heavily-armed marines. Apparently, the marines planned to stop them there.

"I don't know how you escaped, but you aren't going any further," Captain Jirou informed the pirates sternly. He proudly stood in the center of the lobby with his arms crossed over his chest, obviously trying to look as intimidating and impassable as possible. "Admiral Kizaru will be here any moment and I sure as hell won't let you get past me before that happens."

"The key," the first commander demanded, ignoring the Captain's charismatic proclamation.

"Huh?" The captain was taken aback at the pirate's lack of response. He noticed Fire Fist's hands still cuffed in front of him and smirked. He reached into his coat and produced a plain metal key ring with two keys hanging off it. "This key? You'll have to come take—"

And that's exactly what Marco did. Before the poor marine could finish his sentence, he was hit by a large claw straight in the chest. He coughed up blood as he was blasted into the staircase behind him. The keys flew from his hands and landed on the ground by the second commander's feet. As soon as the marines all around the room realized what happened, they trained their weapons on the two commanders and fired. Their attack was met by unyielding blue flames. Marco the Phoenix spread his wings, catching the incoming bullets and shielding his nakama from harm as the other undid the seastone cuffs.

"Damn pirates!" Jirou roared and got up from the crater his body made in the staircase, refusing to be knocked out without a fight. "You won't get away that easily!"

He pulled a large sword out from the sheath at his waist and charged at the first commander, aiming to kill. Marco raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed, and readied himself to intercept the attack.

He didn't have to. All of a sudden a column of bright orange flames blasted out from behind him and hit the charging captain directly, pushing the man back with the force of the blow. Portgas D. Ace emerged from behind the blue flames and strode into the middle of the room, frowning. The closest marines flinched back in fright as they recognized the killing aura that the commander gave off like the heat waves radiating from his skin. The man was pissed.

The temperature inside the enclosed lobby skyrocketed as the devil fruit user summoned his flames without holding back. The blast doors flew off their hinges at the force of the subsequent explosion and the marine soldiers were left ducking, rolling, and running for their lives, the smell of singed clothes, hair, and skin filling the ruined and smoldering chamber. As the smoke cleared, Marco reverted to his human form (having had to go full phoenix to avoid the flames) and face palmed at the destruction all around them. He couldn't decide whether he was annoyed or amused.

"Was that really necessary, yoi?"

Ace grunted in response. He stepped over Captain Jirou who lay collapsed and unconscious at the foot of the stairs and made his way up to the surface. Marco sighed and followed him out of the complex. They were ironically fairly close to the beach where they left their boat so they headed over there with all the intention of getting back to the Moby Dick before an Admiral showed up, if he was really supposed to. They didn't have any business left on the island anyways and the first mate insisted that they should avoid getting caught up in anything messy that could be avoided. Ace silently complied and refused to say a single word to the first commander the entire ride back to the ship.

"Look who's back! You guys are early," As soon as they climbed on board they were greeted by the sight of the fourth commander's pompadour hairdo and his naturally cheery smile. Something that Ace was entirely not in the mood for. "Get bored or something?"

The blond greeted Thatch warmly and was about to give him a non-committal answer (the whole story would wait until he officially reported to Whitebeard himself) when he noticed Vista striding across the deck looking quite stern. His expression brightened somewhat when he noticed the two commanders on deck.

"Oh, good. You're back," the fifth commander noted, relieved. "We were about to go after you two."

"We were?" Thatch inquired and Vista continued with an explanation.

"According to our sources, a marine battleship the under command of Admiral Kizaru landed on that island not two hours ago."

"Hmm," Marco shot Ace a look. The other crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Close call then. That's around the time we left. Good thing we got away when we did, yoi."

With those words, he smiled and put his hand on the younger pirate's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. The teen jerked his shoulder away from the touch, not without notice by the fourth commander.

"Well, since you're back, we'll be heading out. There have been a few incidents with other pirates on the islands to the north that we need to check up on." Vista told them and headed off. Marco nodded in acknowledgment.

"I'll be in my cabin," Ace glared at the blond with an expression that clearly said 'I'm sick of your shit' and stormed off.

"Oh, he's pissed," Thatch commented and looked at the first mate accusingly. "What's gotten into him?"

"Nothing he won't get over," the phoenix huffed.

"Really?" The brunet asked incredulously. "Okay, what did you do to him?"

"…" Marco looked annoyed at the question and the pompadour-sporting commander took it as a sign that he wasn't getting an answer.

"Whatever it is, you should talk to him about it before the rest of us suffer because of it," Thatch advised before leaving him to report to the old man alone. He was likely hinting at the incident when the kid almost burned the ship down and singed Thatch's hair in the process. Marco sighed. _What a pain._

Whitebeard looks displeased when Marco tells him about their capture and their close call with an admiral yet quickly gets over it since the two got back alive and unhurt. It happens. He frowned at the news that Kizaru was patrolling these waters but there was little to worry about. The admiral wouldn't go after the ship even though Whitebeard's men destroyed a marine base. It wasn't worth the fight. The blood coating the first commander's clothes and arms didn't escape his notice, however.

"You didn't tell me how you escaped," the captain frowned knowingly.

"It will take more than some seastone to take us down," the phoenix put his hands up in reassurance.

"Marco…"

"I did what I had to. It was better than getting caught by an admiral. Besides, I'm fine so don't worry, yoi," He was well aware of his father's look of disapproval. He's heard it before. _Oyaji and Ace both. Seriously. _

Whitebeard's frown didn't let up but he made no further remarks, allowing the first mate to launch into a recount of the commanders' mission prior to the incident with the marines.

* * *

Ace gave him the cold shoulder the rest of the night, even throughout dinner. When the second commander did look at him, it was to glare in his general direction. When this continued into the followingday and some of their crewmates started to notice, Marco decided that he'd had enough. Thatch's advice, to talk to the guy, seemed reasonable. Especially since Marco couldn't for the life of him understand exactly why the dark-haired pirate was this mad at him. Thus, there he was, knocking on the door to the second commander's cabin. It opened with a creak and the occupant glared at him predictably.

"We need to talk," Marco stated calmly and Ace let him into his room, shutting the door quietly behind them before plopping onto the bed without a word. Seeing as it was up to him to initiate the conversation, the blond started cautiously. "We can't keep ignoring this. I know you're pissed at me, and I can hazard a guess as to why, but it would be simpler if you just told me. Then we can work it out, yoi."

Ace remained stoic. He _was_ pissed, so Marco better realize that coming to a resolution wouldn't be that easy. The phoenix sighed. _Alright, we'll do this the hard way._

"Then I'm going to guess that you didn't agree with my decision in that cell. You thought there was another option."

The second division commander didn't reply.

"Then I want you to understand that there is a reason I did what I did in that cell. I had you cut off my hands because I honestly believe that was our best chance to get out of there alive, yoi." The first mate explained. His tone was as calm as ever: even, practical, and bordering on dispassionate. The younger pirate listened with his arms insolently crossed over his chest. "You're right. I've done it before. I knew I could handle it and I trusted you to carry through. I'm sorry that I put you in that position, knowing you weren't used to it and that it is quite shocking the first time around."

Ace raised an eyebrow. _That was the understatement of the century, if there ever was one._

"But I don't regret my decision, yoi." Marco finished and Ace shook his head.

"What you did— what you made me do— that was wrong."

"Why was it wrong?"

"What do you mean _why_?!" Ace suddenly exclaimed, frustrated with the phoenix's seemingly philosophical question and his annoyingly cool, logical, and pragmatic view of cutting off his own limbs. He wasn't in the mood to discuss morality. Fuck morality. This was real. "Because it _hurt_ you. It caused you _pain_. It's not right for a nakama to hurt a nakama no matter the circumstances!"

"Is that so?" Marco paused and looked at him levelly before continuing in that infuriatingly calm voice. "Then put yourself in my shoes. Tell me, would it still be wrong if you knew that if you didn't do that, we would have both been captured by an admiral, yoi? That we would have been sent to Impel Down, tortured to an inch of our lives, and then executed?"

Ace winced at the brutal honesty of the commander's tone. Trust Marco to think of the worst-case scenario.

"Is it still wrong if one of us _died_, knowing that you could have prevented it? Knowing that all you had to do was endure a momentary bit of pain? Knowing that in the end, you would get out unscathed? That you had that kind of power? That it didn't really matter?" The first mate stared at him expectantly. "Is it still wrong under those circumstances?"

"There could have been another way." He replied stubbornly and Marco groaned inwardly.

"You're not that naïve. I know you aren't. It's a hard lesson to learn, but sometimes victories require sacrifices, yoi. You have to give up something in return; it's selfish to assume otherwise. And in this case, the sacrifice wasn't even that high. You should count us lucky that my powers allow me to do that unharmed."

_But you weren't unharmed!_ Ace and tried not to feel like he was being talked down to. He had enough condescending lectures from Garp and he sure as hell didn't need another one. Still, he couldn't help but flush slightly. He knew all that, dammit. He wasn't wrong, Ace told himself. He was justified in his anger. He glared at Marco and the other wondered for a second if his words were too harsh.

"That's not the point. How could you be so apathetic about cutting off your own hands? How could you ever think that was an option?" The dark-haired commander responded accusingly, avoiding using the word 'psychopath'. "You know, normal people wouldn't have been so calm in that situation."

"Normal people don't regenerate, yoi."

"I'm just saying that even though you do, it still hurt like a bitch, didn't it? And you knew that it would from the start. How were you so nonchalant about that?"

"Don't confuse my composure with indifference. Would it have been better if I was freaking out? Would it have made you feel better? Or convinced you that I wasn't crazy?"

"That's not what I meant," Ace scowled in annoyance. Obviously he wasn't getting through Marco's cold pragmatism. "The point is that you shouldn't be so used to this. To mostly anyone else, losing a hand would be traumatizing for life. The fact that you treat pain so lightly is disconcerting."

"Why is this such an issue?" Marco said with annoyance at having to repeat himself so often. He could tell the younger pirate was losing his cool. If they didn't settle this soon, they'd be worse off than before they started this conversation. "Like I already explained, I've had worse. And it's only temporary—"

"Because I don't like seeing my nakama in _pain!_" Ace shouted. "And I sure as hell don't want to be the one _causing_ it!"

"Why does it matter? _Sometimes sacrifices are necessary_. And my body lets me do that with no lasting harm. I am _made_ for this. So what if it hurts. If I can help the crew I will do it a thousand times over—"

"Because it matters to me!" Ace cried. "I don't know where the hell you got this idea, but the fact that you 'don't mind pain because you've experienced so much of it before' is _not_ comforting. Who cares about your powers or how desensitized you are to pain! You are not a tool to be used for our benefit. You are human just like the rest of us. Just because you have that power, you shouldn't have to suffer for it."

Marco was speechless.

"Not to mention, all this self-sacrificing bullshit isn't as _noble_ or _justified_ as you think it is. It's selfish!"

"Selfish?!"The first commander exclaimed, snapping out of his reverie. _What are you talking about, brat?!_

"Your actions affect the people who care about you, you asshole. Don't you see? Or did you not take that into account when you ordered me to cut you apart? Doing that to you… watching you suffer and knowing I was the one who caused it…" _The blood and the horror and suppressed cries of pain… Oh god_. "That hurt me too!"

The first mate was taken aback.

"How do you think I felt before you started healing? Dammit Marco, I thought I broke the most important rule on the ship. I thought I killed a nakama! And the thought of having to come back to oyaji and the others and tell them _how_…" Ace trailed off, looking away bitterly.

"I…" Marco felt a pang of guilt at those words. He honestly didn't take that into consideration. Back in that cell, all he focused on was getting free. He assumed that if he was okay with it, Ace would be. He didn't think about how the younger pirate would react. "I didn't think—"

"And you thanked me for it," Ace cut him off and looked up, hurt in his eyes. "You thanked me for doing it, as if it was a good thing that I almost killed my brother."

The second commander's words felt like a punch in the gut. He fucked up. Massively.

"When I realized you were going to be fine, I wanted to strangle you for putting me through that," the second commander admitted. He could still see the brutal scene in his mind's eye. _Marco, lying on the ground, shaking, bleeding out in front of him._ He saw it every time he looked at the blond. He loath to admit it, but that was one of the main reasons behind his ire.

"Oh god, Ace," Marco whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

The pained look on the Ace's face was heartbreaking. The guilt was overwhelming now. Without a moment's hesitation, the phoenix crossed over to his younger nakama and hugged him tightly.

"I thought you were going to die," Ace murmured and Marco clutched him tighter. "You're not allowed to die." _Not before I do. Not my brother. Not again._

"I'm not going anywhere, yoi."

After several moments, Marco released the other commander. He stepped back and looked at him remorsefully, keeping one hand on the other's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry. I should never have put you in that situation. It wasn't fair to you. I didn't take your emotions into account. What you went through… I never meant for you to experience that. If I had known, I would never have…" The first mate trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Never have done it? _No._ Never have been so callus? So _cold?_ As he formed his apology, his heart felt heavy with the knowledge that that his brother cared for him, cared maybe even more than he himself did about what happened to him. "It was all my fault and I'm truly, deeply sorry,"

"I forgive you," Ace said softly. "Just promise me you will never do something that stupid ever again."

"I promise," His heart clenched with the knowledge that he would likely not be able to keep that vow, but Marco nodded anyways. Ace may have seen right through it. And maybe he may have realize that the first commander was partially right. Maybe he understood what it meant to do anything and everything he could to save a crewmate at any cost to himself. But somehow that simple agreement, even if it was only a charade, was enough for both of them.

Ace felt himself returning to his ordinary self as the image of Marco in his mind slowly reverted from the heavily bleeding form on the ground to the strong and definitely alive older brother smiling back at him.

"And if you ever try to pull that shit again, I'll kick your ass," The second commander threatened with a smirk and the phoenix smiled in return.

"I'd like to see you try, yoi."

.: The End :.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh, foreshadowing. I'm not even going to count how many times I referenced the themes from Marineford. I'm a terrible person. Speaking of which, Ace looks like quite the hypocrite in this fic. *is shot*

But seriously, I'm afraid I presented him as fairly OoC here. What do you think?

**Thank you so much for reading and thank you doubly for leaving me a comment! I really appreciate all the constructive reviews. You guys are awesome and I love being part of this fandom! Let me know if you liked it, hated it, etc…! I'll probably be working on another angsty One Piece fic in the mean time! **


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